


Lessons

by omphale23



Category: Shakespeare - A Midsummer Nights Dream
Genre: F/M, Yuletide, challenge:Yuletide 2006
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-14
Updated: 2010-03-14
Packaged: 2017-10-07 23:55:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/70571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/omphale23/pseuds/omphale23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Titania began her annoyed diatribe even before she arrived.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lessons

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lissiel](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=lissiel).



> Thanks to Slidellra for the read-through, and many apologies for the lack of iambic pentameter.

Titania began her annoyed diatribe even before she arrived. "I did warn you that it was a bad idea to chat with that Shakespeare fellow. You can't trust humans. Never could." She shimmered into view, a scowl on her face. "They get ideas above their stations, and next thing you know, you're out conjuring hot coffee and scones like some sort of household servant. You really ought to have known better after the mess that Frenchman made of it."

 

It was going to be one of those conversations, it seemed. One of those detestable nights when he regretted venturing into the world. Such nights always began with Titania's irritated voice drifting into a glade. "Yes, I remember the conversation clearly. How was I to know that he would take up writing?"

 

"He's an actor. You can't trust actors." Titania glared as if that ought to be sufficient reason. After a moment, she sighed and continued. "Even if he hadn't written it down, it would have been a foolish thing to do."

 

For an immortal being, she had a rather human tendency to state the obvious. Repeatedly. "You've made your point. Have you considered being helpful?" If he knew her, and he did, she considered such lectures to be some sort of public service. But really, there ought to be some sort of limit on the number of times she could sing this particular refrain.

 

"This is helpful. I'm helping you see what an unmitigated idiot you've been." Indeed. There were times when she was quite depressingly predictable. For a moment, Oberon missed Hippolyta. She had at least been full of surprises, even if her overbearing ways had quickly grated on his nerves. Kama sutra lessons, indeed. Theseus had come along just in the nick of time.

 

"Oh, well, thanks for that. It's not bad enough that he made us into some sort of rustic pantomime." Complete with an ass, a telling metaphor if ever there was one. Really, he'd like to wring that horrid man's neck.

 

Titania seemed to be losing a bit of her anger. Or perhaps redirecting it to a target less capable of returning her ire. "Don't forget the iambic pentameter. I hate iambic pentameter." She blew out an irritated breath.

 

Oberon couldn't resist a small poke at her assumptions. "Everyone hates to speak in iambic pentameter. However, I rather like the sound of it. The listening is nice enough."

 

"Wonderful. I'm happy for you. Meanwhile, it's been four hundred years, and I'm remembered as some sort of supernatural harlot, with a short temper and a thing for well-hung provincials."

 

Oberon waited quietly and almost entirely patiently for Titania to remember that she had called him here, and that she was asking a favor. She finally muttered a grudging, "I suppose what's done is gone. What shall I attempt first?"

 

Turning his head and finding his view strangely uncorrupted by Robin Goodfellow, Oberon raised his voice. "Puck! Where are you?"

 

The brownie sidled up, careful to keep Oberon between himself and the frustrated Queen. "Here, sir." He lounged coolly on a nearby stump. "Just being my usual merry self."

 

Titania snorted. Screwing with fairies, more likely."

 

Puck was immediately on his feet, bouncing with indignation. "I've done nothing to any fairies." He swiftly reconsidered, tilting his head and tapping his chin in thought. "At least, not recently."

 

Oberon was in no mood to oversee the brawl that threatened. "See that you keep it that way." Puck looked at him expectantly, as Oberon continued, "Where are my keys?"

 

"Keys? What keys?" Oberon snapped his fingers. "Oh, you mean those keys. Half a tick, they're around here somewhere." A few minutes later, Puck dragged the ring out of something that wasn't a pocket. He blew off the dust and twirled them on one spindly finger.

 

Really, one of these days the damnable little snot was going to push it too far. Oberon cuffed him on the ear, turning it into a rough caress, and lifted the keys away. "Now go, we've plans to complete and things to begin. Five boxes, and some branches. Maybe a broomstick. I've no idea what we're meant to use. You'll figure something out."

 

Puck vanished, returning with a stack of brightly colored mesh containers--stolen, no doubt--and an armful of mops. He quickly placed them in a rectangle, using the last mop and crate to mark off a triangle on one end of the original set. He clapped his hands in satisfaction, turning a circle and cackling brightly.

 

"That's enough out of you. Now, out of the way." Oberon gallantly opened the door and waved Titania inside, reaching over her lap to push the keys into the ignition.

 

Years ago, when Oberon decided that he needed to experience driving for himself, he had settled on a Mustang--and it had become a classic. It was big, and bright, all cherry red paint and shiny chrome, and had one of those tops that folded up into nothing at all. It was a beautiful piece of machinery, and evidence that humanity was good for something, after all.

 

Titania had learned of his hobby, and she insisted that she be allowed to participate in this new ritual, the worship of speed and wind and twisting curves of road stretching out in the night.

 

That she had little understanding of mechanical processes didn't deter her in the least. Neither did his explanation of the concept of the stick shift, or his reluctance to allow her behind the wheel. These cars didn't grow on trees, after all.

 

Still, he'd not won an argument with her yet, and this one was no different than the thousands of others through the centuries. She wanted to learn to drive, and so here he was, sitting in the passenger seat, wondering whom one prayed to for the protection of second gear.

 

How hard was it? Clutch, then shift. A troll could figure this out. And the fourth time his head hit the dash as the engine rattled to a stop, Oberon was sorely tempted to point this out.

 

"You wouldn't have a problem if you weren't too stubborn to wear the seat belt," Titania offered sweetly.

 

"I wouldn't have a problem if you'd quit forgetting the steps, either. This was a horrible idea." Oberon gritted his teeth as the car lurched into drive. "Clutch. Clutch, clutch, clutch! It's not that hard! What is the matter with you?"

 

"Stop shouting at me. It looks very unappealing, all that grimacing and waving about." The car clunkd into reverse, and his ears rang as his head bounced off the window.

 

Puck stood at the edge of the road, snickering. Oberon glared, and Puck quickly looked down, recognizing the rebuke. He was rather heedless, but not by any means stupid.

 

Ages later, as the sun began to lighten the sky, they'd reached the stage of parallel parking. Oberon was annoyed, Titania was being her usual less-than-understanding self, and Peaseblossom--who promised not to speak, not even a word, he just wanted a chance to ride quietly in the back, honestly, he'd be no trouble at all--had settled into a sullen silence after Oberon threatened to tie him to the roof.

 

"I'm never going to learn this. What a silly thing to do, this parking. I won't use it, anyway." Titania wasn't nearly as attractive when she pouted as she thought herself to be.

 

"Don't behave as if this were a picnic for me. My poor car will never be the same."

 

Titania slammed her hand on the steering wheel. "That horrid little creature is driving me _mad_."

 

"Who? Oh, him." Puck had that effect. He was best encountered in small doses, and with long breaks between.

 

"Yes, him. Tell him to stop moving the crates, or I'll make him sorry he was ever created."

 

"I hardly believe it's Puck's fault that you can't drive." Oberon himself suspected that the problem lay with Titania's inability to follow his instructions. She'd never been good at listening.

 

Just then, Puck appeared in his rearview mirror, shifting the nearest crate closer to the tire and ducking away. Oberon heard the grinding of paint being scraped away as Titania hit the obstruction.

 

He was going to strangle Puck, just as soon as he got rid of Titania. This was unbearable.

 

"That's enough. We're done. Turn it off, please." Oberon waited for the engine to stutter into silence and climbed out, motioning for Puck to approach. Quickly, before Titania could join them, he muttered, "You are going to regret that little stunt. It wasn't nearly as amusing as you thought it to be. Now off with you. Get these contraptions out of my sight."

 

Titania dangled the keys before him. "I think that's quite sufficient, thank you. It's not really something I plan to use in the future. And this particular vehicle is a bit pedestrian for my tastes."

 

Oberon opened his mouth to respond, but she continued, smiling sweetly. "And one gets the same effect with a driver, really. Oh, look. My transportation has arrived. I'll be off, then."

 

Watching her settle gracefully into the stretch limousine that waited a few yards off, Oberon fumed. His beautiful car was a mess, and she'd been merely playing with it.

 

That creature was going to be the death of him yet.

 

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